The night before they returned to Green Point Stadium for the drab draw with Algeria that precipitated last night's summit, the England coach drove away after training accompanied by six police cars and a helicopter. Inside, the players wore haunted looks. Michael Dawson, who a fortnight ago could not stop grinning after being called up to replace injured captain Rio Ferdinand, looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The extent to which the psychological pressure on the England players has been exacerbated, rather than minimised, by the decision to base the team in a remote camp in Rustenburg is one only they can answer. But in recent days, as the problems have mounted and the scrutiny has become ever more forensic, they have lined up to talk about the boredom and isolation they feel.

"We're in a hotel, we finish training and have lunch at one o'clock, but then we have hours to spare," John Terry said yesterday. "There are things to do around the training camp: mini darts tournaments, snooker and pool. But a bit of boredom kicks in. It's six or seven hours until we meet up for dinner again."

Wayne Rooney, who looked tormented on Friday, has also spoken of the pressures of being cooped up in the Bafokeng compound. "Lying in bed at two in the afternoon, that's quite boring, he said. "Thankfully the games are on now and we can watch them. Takes a bit of the boredom away. It's brilliant to be training and playing but we need to watch our legs. Breakfast, train, lunch, bed, dinner, bed."

By contrast, the Holland coach, Bert van Marwijk - under pressure from his own press pack for the style in which his men have qualified despite securing a maximum six points - can occasionally be seen tinkling the ivories in the lobby of their team hotel in central Johannesburg. The Dutch players, no strangers to internal strife at major tournaments, witnessed the Bafana Bafana parade that passed by their hotel, can be seen happily wandering around the area with limited security and are at least aware that they are playing at a World Cup in Africa.

At Dutch press days, and those of most other countries, a sizeable contingent of players line up to talk to the press. In Rustenburg, one a day is paraded through and they often look as though they would rather be anywhere else.

Fabio Capello has repeatedly lauded the facilities at the Royal Bafokeng Sports Campus and the ability to control the conditions in which the players live, train and eat. His right-hand man, Franco Baldini, was instrumental in choosing and preparing the facilities. There is also a security factor, argues the FA. Given the high profile of England's players, the presence of David Beckham and the size of their travelling support, the FA would face serious – but surmountable – logistical issues if the camp was based closer to civilisation.

An FA spokesman said: "We knew this would come up at some point during the tournament. But it only comes up if you're not winning games. Dealing with being away from home and the periods between matches is part of tournament football. The bottom line is, it's about the performances on the pitch and that's how we'll be ultimately evaluated."

He stressed that it was "not a boot camp", noting that players have had full days off after both matches and have been to Sun City to play golf. They also enjoyed a day on safari, although that turned into a tense standoff with photographers. Capello's decision to ban the players' families, much lauded at the time, has also come under scrutiny. In attempting to avoid the circus of Baden-Baden in 2006, some believe the Italian has swung too far the other way.

The fact that another of Capello's key World Cup decisions has become a talking point at all is instructive. The extraordinary thing about the deterioration of the relationship between players, fans, media and management is how quickly it has happened.

The Terry affair, which most judged was handled as well as could be expected by the FA and Capello, may have left residual discontent. But the collapse of the Italian's much vaunted authority can perhaps be traced back to the Capello Index.

In hindsight, the aborted launch of the online player rating venture was perhaps the point at which not only a hitherto supportive media began to question Capello, but so did the players.

Then came the well documented abandonment of long held principles surrounding picking players in form and not gambling on those who are injured, and the chaotic squad announcement.

Then the last minute flare-up over the break clause in Capello's contract, which could yet come back to haunt an already cash-strapped FA, and the rumblings of discontent from within the squad.

And all this against a backdrop of constant flux above him at the FA, which lost its chairman and chief executive within two months of one another, and the creation of the new "Club England" set up.

Club England managing director Adrian Bevington said yesterday there was "certainly not any disharmony" and refused to discuss Capello's future.

"Anyone who works on media or football knows that when the results or performances are not quite what they want them to be – and when the whole focus of attention is on you – people look for certain angles and we have seen this many times over the years," he said.

As in any situation where results are going the wrong way – be it football or business – the race to deflect blame has begun. If things improve on Wednesday, England's remote base camp could yet be seen as a testament to Capello's eye for detail and obsessive desire to win. If not, it will be used as another stick to beat him with. FA insiders point out that the team are not in South Africa to win a popularity contest but to win a World Cup. The problem is that, at the moment, there seems to be precious little chance of either.